


We're Kind of a Package Deal

by invalidgoblin



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Underage Drinking, the dirty one and the gay one are in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9653216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invalidgoblin/pseuds/invalidgoblin
Summary: Charlie and Mac had always been there for each other. When Mac’s dad went to prison. When Uncle Jack would stay in Charlie’s room. Whenever Mac got sad or Charlie got anxious, the other one would be there to help them recover. Charlie thought that would never change.





	1. Dennis Reynolds

**Author's Note:**

> They're about 16 here, so I tagged underage for drinking, drug use, and some sexual content (nothing super explicit right now).

Charlie hated junior year. Yeah, he had hated all of highschool, but he really hated junior year. His classes were harder (which meant cheating was harder too), everyone was talking about college (which Charlie didn’t care about), and everyone was talking more and more about sex (which Charlie didn’t really care about either). And well those things were awful, they weren’t as bad as the one big thing that made junior year the worst. That was Dennis Reynolds. 

Charlie actually liked Dennis, he did. They were friends, and even though Dennis thought he was above Charlie, Dennis also thought he was above everyone. The thing that Charlie didn’t like about Dennis wasn’t actually Dennis’ fault. The thing Charlie didn’t like about Dennis was that Mac liked Dennis. Charlie didn’t mind that they were friends, but he didn’t like the way that Mac acted around Dennis. He didn’t like that he acted hyper masculine or started talking about how hot girls are. He didn’t like that Mac wouldn’t hold his hand around Dennis. He didn’t like any of that stuff. 

Charlie wasn’t necessarily jealous, he just didn’t like how Dennis changed Mac, even though Dennis wasn’t actually trying to change anyone. 

Charlie sighed as he walked towards the bleachers, ducking slightly as he climbed under them and hunching over as he continued towards the corner where he always sat with Mac. Mac was already there, but he hadn’t started smoking yet. Charlie smiled slightly, knowing that even though Mac had changed, he still cared about Charlie. Charlie sat down beside Mac, who smiled up at him and flipped open his lighter. 

“Ready to start?” he asked, cheeks pink due to the cool March breeze. Charlie nodded and he brought the flame from the lighter up to the end of the joint and took a long drag. He offered it to Charlie, who was almost hesitant. Mac cocked his head in slight confusion. 

“What’s wrong? You’ve smoked weed before,” Mac slurred, the high already kicking in. 

“Yeah, but I always do it wrong. I don’t smoke as much as you do so I always start coughing,” Charlie replied, slow and quiet. Something in him was afraid that Mac would ridicule him for not doing in properly. He did when Dennis was around. 

Mac began to smile as he formed his response, “Do you want me to shotgun it first?”

Charlie’s smile returned to his face. The first time they had smoked together, Mac had offered the same thing. Their lips had brushed against each other and Mac had held his hand. That was when they were freshman. Now, two years later, Charlie still hadn’t learned how to smoke properly, mostly so that Mac could do that again. 

Mac took Charlie’s smile as a yes and took another deep drag, keeping the smoke in his mouth as he leaned towards his friend. Charlie opened his mouth and Mac leaned forwards further, pressing their foreheads together and gently breathing the smoke out into Charlie’s mouth. Charlie leaned forwards further, touching their lips together lightly. Mac’s eyes widened slightly and he leaned in, only a little bit. Their lips almost connected in a kiss before Mac pulled back, the pink hue on his cheeks a little more prominent. 

“That was kinda gay, huh?” Mac murmured, not really in a disgusted way, but more as if he was stating a fact. 

“Don’t worry, your boyfriend isn’t here to get jealous,” Charlie grumbled under his breath, a little annoyed about Mac’s remark. 

Mac looked at him, confusion evident on his face, “What are you talking about?”

Charlie threw his hand up in frustration, “You and Dennis! You’re always ogling him. It’s annoying.”

Mac laughed, leaning back against the bleachers, “Dude, I don’t like Dennis. Not like that.”

Mac looked sincere, and anger slowly drained from Charlie’s body. This wasn’t the first time Charlie had brought it up, but it was the first time that Mac’s response hadn’t been “Dude, ew. I’m not gay.”

Mac reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand, pulling him closer to himself. They leaned against each other in the corner of the bleachers and looked up at the sky. 

“Don’t even worry about that Charlie.”


	2. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac doesn't like Dennis like that

Mac didn’t like Dennis. He liked him as a friend, but he didn’t romantically like him. That just wasn’t the case. He was just, different around Dennis. Dennis was popular and Mac wanted to be too. He didn’t want to be called Ronnie the Rat or be shoved down stairs or locked in janitor’s closets. He didn’t want that anymore. So yeah, he acted differently around Dennis, but not in-front-of-your-crush different. He didn’t think he acted like that anyway.  
What he did think was that Charlie was pretty pissed when he told him he couldn’t hang out on Friday after all. Though the plan wasn’t exactly explicit, the two of them had hung out together at the same spot every Friday night since they were freshman. 

Mac had been the one to originally find it. ‘It’ was the rooftop of an old warehouse that looked over the Schuylkill River. The roof had this little alcove in it that felt hidden from the rest of the world. Over the years they had started leaving fold out chairs and blankets up there, and not once had anyone ever touched them. It was if the world knew it was their special spot. 

It wasn’t like Mac didn’t treasure those nights, it was just that Dennis had invited him to a party and wasn’t exactly like he could tell Dennis about the plans he had with Charlie, or why those plans would take priority. Dennis would definitely call him gay for that. 

That, and Dennis had promised that he could get him laid at said party. 

So here Mac was, sitting in the back seat of Dennis’s Range Rover with Maureen. They both wore awkward smiles as Dennis and Dee bickered in the front, Dennis trying to tell her that she shouldn’t take her back brace off at the party and Dee asking him if he wanted her to be a loser all her life. Obviously, things were uncomfortable for the non-Reynolds passengers. 

Soon enough the bickering quieted and Tim Murphy’s house came into view. Dennis had explained that his parents had gone up to their ski chalet for the weekend, so everyone was going to be there. Tim claimed it would be the ‘party of the year’. Somehow Mac still wished he were hanging out with Charlie instead.

Dennis parked the car and they all shuffled out, Dee staying a few feet behind the rest of them (at Dennis’s request, of course). The house already looked packed with St. Joe’s most popular students, and the smell of weed and cheap liquor permeated the building. Mac entered the house hesitantly, but Dennis grabbed his arm and pulled him further in. The music was loud and the lights were barely on; Mac had to squint to make out the expression on his friends face. 

Tim Murphy came over to great them, handing them each a solo cup of beer (most likely watered down). He and Dennis chatted for a while, Mac standing awkwardly beside them. Eventually, the conversation broke, and Dennis turned his attention back to Mac. 

“Bro, I already know the perfect girl for you to hook up with tonight; she’s maybe a 6, and not too popular, a bit of a slut too. Tim says she’s on the main balcony upstairs waiting for a nice suitor.”

Dennis raises his eyebrows and Mac tries to ignore the clear insult and feigns a smile. When he doesn’t move right away, Dennis gives him a push. 

“Go get her bro,” Dennis says, his tone more annoyed than encouraging. Mac just . . . goes along with it. He walks up the stairs to the slightly more secluded second floor. High pitched moans and deep grunts come from some of the bedroom doors. He tries to ignore that and just walks towards the main balcony, where surely enough a scantily clad blonde stands. 

“Hi,” Mac murmurs quietly, giving the girl a small and pathetic wave. 

“You must be Mac, right? Dennis told me about you and what you’re looking for tonight, which is cool with me,” the girl slurred, clearly already a little tipsy. Mac, on the other hand, wasn’t even feeling a buzz. He didn’t let himself get wasted unless Charlie was around. No offense to Dennis, but he didn’t trust the guy to not humiliate him when he was drunk. The girl grabbed Mac’s wrist and tugged him from the balcony back inside, pushing his back against one of the bedroom doors. She started kissing his neck sloppily while her hand turned the knob, and after a few failed attempts finally succeeded at getting them into the room. As soon as the door was closed she started to take off her top, but Mac stopped her. 

“Can we just start slow, please?” he asked, feeling a little pathetic. He didn’t know how far Dennis thought he had gone with a girl, but in reality, it wasn’t more than kissing. He had never really wanted this in the first place, but Dennis made him feel . . . insecure. Like if he wasn’t having sex with lots of girls like Dennis was, he wasn’t worth anything. 

The girl just rolled her eyes and pulled him over to the bed. They both sat down on the edge, and she started leaning in, kissing him in a messy and aggressive fashion. Mac didn’t really respond. It wasn’t that kissing was bad, it was that he wasn’t attracted to her. Maybe another girl would be better? 

He pulled back, feeling a lump in his throat grow bigger, “I . . . I need to stop. I can’t do this.”

She pushed further into him, her hand pushing against his chest, “Sure you can big boy.” Her hand moved down from his chest and grabbed him groin. 

Mac shot up immediately, bile rising in his throat. He ran from the room, searching for the nearest washroom. 

That was awful. So, so awful. Oh god, why didn’t I hang out with Charlie?

He pushed his way into the second-floor bathroom, only to find it occupied by a different couple. Dennis whipped around and looked at him with wide eyes. 

“GET OUT!” 

Mac hurried from the room, but not before he saw a glimpse of blonde hair and the reflection of something metal. 

He shut the door behind him and quickly left the house, wanting to get as far away from this party as possible. He ran out of the fancy uptown cul-de-sac that the Murphy house occupied and towards the familiar and dangerous streets of South Philly. He moved, as if on autopilot, towards the Kelly household, which was the most likely place Charlie would be. Mac had been there a million times, though the frequency of his visits had significantly decreased over the years. They most hung out at Mac’s place these days. 

Mac snapped back into reality as he passed the warehouse where he was supposed to hang out tonight. It lacked the faint warm glow of a cigarette, indicating Charlie’s absence. At this point, Mac was fairly out of breath. His chest burned and his legs ached as he settled into a slow walk, still subconsciously moving towards where he hoped his friend might be. He continued down a residential street, head spinning from the exertion of running all this way. By the time he was passing a familiar park, his head was feeling significantly better, and his vision was blurred only slightly; it was good enough that he could make out a small figure on a swing set, wearing an all-too-familiar army jacket. 

Mac face broke out into a smile as he began a slow jog towards Charlie, who was staring intently at the ground. As Mac grew nearer, Charlie’s body tensed slightly, and his mouth opened. 

“I don’t have any money.”

Mac chuckled slightly as he sat down on the swing beside him, “I don’t want money, dude.”

Charlie’s head snapped up to look at him, the hint of a smile on his lips. It quickly faded as he remembered the circumstances. 

“Why are you even here?”

Mac’s smile faded a little as well as he began to respond, “I’m sorry for ditching you because of some stupid party. I have a good feeling I won’t be going to any of Dennis’s parties anymore.”

Charlie’s lips formed an I-told-you-so smirk, before his face became solemn again, “Do you promise?”

Mac reached over and grabbed Charlie’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly, “Yeah, I promise.”


	3. The Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both like boys, but only one will admit it

Mac had an entire weekend to recover from the party, and yet that still wasn’t enough. He spent both days at his house with Charlie, ignoring the voicemails Dennis left a few times a day. He didn’t care about Dennis right now, not after what he saw on Friday. 

No, this weekend was not about Dennis, or about Tim Murphy, or about the girl Mac kissed. This weekend was about him and Charlie, and about forgetting Friday night. Charlie was doing a damn good job of helping him forget. 

The whole weekend of just them technically started late Friday night, when they were leaving the park. They were walking side by side, Mac’s hand still loosely holding Charlie’s. When they reached the sidewalk, Mac had the overwhelming urge to bring Charlie home with him. 

“Hey, do you, uh, want to stay at my place,” Mac asked sheepishly, even though Charlie had stayed over a million times before. It was if something had changed between them; as if a new chapter in their relationship had opened. Mac wasn’t sure what exactly brought on this shift, but it made him like to hold Charlie’s hand again, and made his stomach do little flips when he looked into Charlie’s eyes. Whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining.

Charlie nodded and his lips twitched into a smile, a nervous look in his eyes and a noticeable blush on his cheeks that Mac knew his own face mirrored. Mac smiled back at him as they started walking home (Mac’s home, but Charlie’s home too, in a way). They moved shoulder to shoulder, hands clasped together more tightly. Mac felt like he was 8 again, holding Charlie’s hand like this. He felt like he did before his brain was poisoned with messages about the dangers of homosexuality; before his fingers brushing against Charlie’s felt like a sin. 

He didn’t care about that right now, and he’s content with that. It was Charlie that told him that if God was real, and if he cared about us, He would want us to do things that make us happy. This made Mac very happy; Charlie made Mac very happy. 

When they reached Mac’s house, he realized that they had both walked the whole way in silence. It wasn’t as though that had been uncomfortable; it was just that Mac had felt as though he was talking to Charlie the whole way. As if just being near Charlie like this was enough for him. They went inside, careful not to disturb Mrs. Mac (who hated being woken up) and crept upstairs, tiptoeing into Mac’s room and gently shutting the door behind them. 

“What do you want to do,” Mac inquired, walking over to his bed and unconsciously dragging Charlie with him (because there was no way he was letting go of his hand). They sat down, leaning against the headboard, Charlie resting his head on Mac’s shoulder. Charlie shuffled around in his pocket, and pulled out a small baggy. 

“I have some weed,” he suggested, shaking the bag in front of Mac’s face.  
“I thought you didn’t like smoking,” Mac said in jest, reaching into the top drawer of his side table to grab some rolling papers. He looked back up at Charlie and saw that a blush had made its way to his cheeks. Mac just smiled at him, grabbing the baggy and letting go of Charlie’s hand in order to properly roll the joints. His hand instantly felt colder, and somehow, it felt lonely. Charlie crossed his legs and turned to face Mac, who had just finished with the first joint. He grabbed his lighter from his pocket, bringing the flame gently up to one end of his creation. 

“Do you want to go first?” Mac offered, holding the joint out towards his friend. Charlie looked down at his feet, his blush deepening, as he gently shook his head. 

“Do you want me to shotgun it to you?” Mac tried, a smile and a blush simultaneously creeping onto his face. This time Charlie nodded, his face now deeply flushed. Mac took in a deep breath of smoke, holding it in his mouth and he tipped Charlie’s chin up towards him so that they were facing each other again. Charlie opened his mouth slightly, and Mac leaned in close, blowing the smoke from his mouth into Charlie’s. Their lips touched slightly, just like they had done so many times before, but this time they stayed like this a while longer. The smoke had long left Mac’s mouth, but they stayed like that, foreheads pressed together and lips just touching. Charlie could barely stand it. He pushed forward, their lips colliding messily. At first, Mac was slightly surprised, but after a second, he started to kiss back. He smiled into the kiss because god, even if he didn’t really know it, he had wanted this for so long. 

When Charlie finally pulled back for air, they both began to giggle, slightly due to the mild effects of the weed, but mostly due to the relief. That they had kissed. That the other had kissed back. Mac reached for Charlie, pulling the smaller boy towards him. They toppled back onto Mac’s bed, Charlie now lying against Mac’s chest. He pulled Charlie further into him, his head lying in the crook of Mac’s neck, where he began to place gentle kisses. They just lay like that, Mac stroking Charlie’s hair as he continued to smoke, Charlie kissing and nibbling Mac’s neck as he enjoyed his second-hand high. They stayed awake late into the night, kissing some more, snuggling, smoking. It didn’t feel like a big deal to either of them, it just felt like what was supposed to happen. 

And thus the weekend of just them had started. It went on like a normal weekend between them would, except with a lot more kissing, and snuggling, and less-than-platonic moments. Mac liked this, though. He liked that he could feed Charlie breakfast, and kiss his head while they watched cartoons, and hold him close to his chest at night. He didn’t know what they were right now, but he didn’t care. He liked Charlie, and Charlie liked him, and they were still the same inseparable duo that they had always been. Just . . . better. 

Even though they both loved this now, Charlie knew that the end of the weekend would break this trance that they were under. Even though Mac had been getting better about the whole ‘gay’ thing, Charlie knew that they wouldn’t be like this once Monday arrived. They couldn’t. Mac, he just wasn’t ready yet. 

Charlie knew this as he walked home from the MacDonald household on Sunday night, waving halfheartedly to his friend as he turned the corner. Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Charlie felt tears pour down his face. He loved Mac so much, so damn much. Too much. Mac meant more to him than anybody else, and Charlie knew that he would rather himself get shot than have Mac be sad. Jesus Christ, he was head over heals for a closeted South Philly drug dealer with daddy issues. 

Charlie felt a giggle bubble in his throat as he wiped his tears on the sleeve of his army jacket. Mac had worn it earlier and now it smelled like him; it smelled like his shampoo and cheap cologne. That just made Charlie’s tears return because god did he ever love that boy, and god did he know that Mac would never say he loved him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Dee and Dennis's relationship in this is not going to be romantic/sexual (that's why I removed the tag). I am going to go into more detail about in later chapters (and also in a short spin-off fic I'm going to write about what exactly happened between them on the night of Tim Murphy's party). Sorry it took me so long to update, another chapter is coming soon!


	4. What Came After

Charlie Kelly was right.

This was a rare occurrence when it came to spelling, common knowledge, or schoolwork, but a very common occurrence when it involved Mac. When Charlie’s success was in the former, he would be overjoyed, showing off his achievement to others (like when he spelled Mac’s full name right). However, when his success was in information concerning the latter, Charlie was usually upset. 

This happened when Charlie warned Mac about ratting on the other drug dealer because the other students would make fun of him. 

It happened when Charlie warned Mac not to drink that sixth beer because he would feel like shit tomorrow and Dennis would call him a lightweight. 

And it happened when Charlie told Mac that something bad would happen at Tim Murphy’s party.

When it came to Mac, Charlie was always right. That meant that when Charlie has thought that come Monday Mac wouldn’t be into him like that anymore, he had been correct. Charlie had tested the waters and had attempted to hold Mac’s hand when they were walking to school that morning. Their hands interlocked comfortably for a while, but about 5 blocks from school Mac dropped his hand, muttering something about “not wanting anybody to see this gay shit”. Charlie’s suspicions had been confirmed, and his heart had been damaged. 

When Charlie hadn’t foreseen, however, was the shit that was going to go down as soon as Mac and Dennis saw each other at school. He and Mac had been walking lazily towards class when Dennis lay his arm on Mac’s shoulder.   
“So, where did you go on Friday night? That girl said you just ran out,” Dennis was speaking in a nonchalant voice, but there was a distinct sharpness in his eyes. 

“I just needed some air, man,” Mac’s reply was shaky and hesitant. 

“Really? Because she said that you looked sick as soon as you kissed her.”

“I . . . I just wasn’t feeling it.”

Dennis’s glare became more intense as he said, “You don’t need to be in love with her, Ronnie. Are you gay or something?”

Charlie felt his stomach boil and saw Mac’s face scrunch up in anger. While Dennis only meant it as a joke, he chose the wrong goddamn time to say it. 

Mac shoved Dennis’s arm off of his shoulder and stormed into the nearest bathroom, which Charlie quickly followed him into. 

Mac looked confused and angry, and Charlie tried to gently place his hand on his friend's shoulder. He could barely ask Mac if he was okay before Dennis burst through the doors. 

“Dude, you’re not a faggot, are you?” Dennis asked, leaning against the wall. Mac whipped around and punched the tile beside Dennis’s face, his fist grazing Dennis’s cheek as he did so.

“You can’t go around saying things like that man,” Mac muttered in a surprisingly level tone, “that’s really rude.”

Dennis raised an eyebrow, “so, what? You care all of a sudden? You are gay, aren’t you?”

Mac’s face devolved into one of fear, and Charlie knew that this could break him. That Dennis finding out something that was he had tried so hard to ignore and repress would damage him right now. Charlie decided to take one for the team. 

“No, he’s um . . . he’s protecting me,” Charlie swallowed, knowing that his next words would make everything different for him, that the bullying would be so much worse, that slurs would be thrown at him like paper airplanes, that if he thought he had it bad now it was about to get so much worse. 

But he was going to say it if it meant protecting Mac. 

“I’m gay.”

Dennis looked at him in momentary shock and the fear faded from Mac’s face. There was a moment of silence before Dennis snorted, “It was a joke, dude. I can’t believe you came out over a joke. Jesus Christ, everyone will have a field day with this.”

Charlie felt his face heating up. Mac removed his fist from the wall and used it to grab Dennis’s collar, lifting him up slightly and pushing his against the tile. 

“I swear to god dude if you tell anyone about Charlie, I will tell the whole goddamn school what I saw in that bathroom.”

Dennis’s face paled, “you . . . you don’t know what you saw.”

“It doesn’t matter. It was you and Dee, and it doesn’t matter what you were doing. The whole school will be talking about you as if you two are the McPoyles. Who cares if Charlie’s gay then? Incest is far more taboo.”

Mac dropped him and Dennis straightened his shirt, colour returning to his face, “There was nothing like that going on, and you know it. No one would believe you anyway.”

“Wouldn’t they, Dennis? Or do you want to test which one of is more credible to the school's general populace? The most outrageous a rumor, the more it spreads.”

Dennis scoffed, checking his hair one last time before heading for the door, “whatever losers.”

The door slammed behind him as he left, and Mac instantly turned to Charlie. 

“Dude, are you okay?” 

Before Mac had even finished his question Charlie was hugging him tightly, his tears staining Mac’s t-shirt. After a moment of shock Mac wrapped his arms around him and planted a small kiss on the top of his head.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” he whispered into his hair, “I’ll always be here to protect you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, Dennis is not trying to be 'mean', but I'll explain this in my Dennis and Dee spin-off fic. Going to try to write 10K words for this fic and then stop, so maybe 5 or 6 more chapters?


	5. Dead Boy Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumors always spread; it's in their nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING there is physical and (mild) sexual abuse in this chapter as well as a lot of homophobia. Tried to represent the inherently bigoted and intensely repressed mind of a lower class early 90s teen.

Dennis didn’t tell anyone. 

He didn’t and Charlie knows he didn’t, but the bathrooms have thin walls and people are everywhere. Dennis didn’t tell anyone, but everyone found out. 

Mac was convinced Dennis told, convinced that this guy that he had months ago held to this standard of perfection was a liar and a double-crosser. Mac was fully prepared to start the rumor about Dennis and The Aluminum Monster, but Charlie convinced him not to. That would only make things worse. 

Even if Dennis did tell someone (which Charlie was sure he didn’t), Dee didn’t deserve that punishment. Charlie had long ago decided that she was nice and that he would like to be proper friends with her if the circumstances ever allowed for it. 

Anyway, Dennis didn’t tell anyone, and Mac didn’t either. 

But people found out. 

And Charlie was fucked. 

Charlie had always been bullied, and he knew how much worse it would be the second anyone found out he was gay. He knew, and yet he still wasn’t prepared for the torture that befell him. 

It started out as expected; the word ‘fag’ being thrown at him in the hallway, occasionally disgusted looks, more frequent shoves, and punches. That he had expected. That he was prepared for. What he wasn’t prepared for was the deranged minds of repressed South Philly youth, who had been raised on a bigoted rhetoric by abusive parents. What he wasn’t prepared for was a group of three guys pulling him behind the dumpsters when he was walking to meet Mac under the bleachers. 

Charlie’s mind shut down the minute he was pinned against the wall, his neck scratching against the brick and his collar tightly held in a pair of roughly bandaged hands. He knew they were talking to him, mocking him, expecting a fight or a response, but Charlie had learned not to fight. He had learned at age 6 when his uncle touched him. He had learned at age 8 when a bully sliced his abdomen with a pair of scissors. He had learned at age 14 when the word faggot was first spray painted across his locker. He had learned to go numb to the pain because fighting against it would make it worse. 

He felt himself being dropped to the ground, felt multiple kicks at his abdomen and arms, felt his skin start to bruise where the boy with steel-toed boots kicked him. The physical abuse continued for a while when suddenly the larger boy told the other two to get lost. Charlie watched hazily as they scampered away, not knowing their names but only their cruel intentions. 

The remaining boy picked Charlie up by his collar, pushing his back against the wall as he had originally done. He leaned forward, and Charlie expected a warm pain to explode from his stomach. That pain, however, came in a different form. 

The boy leaned in towards his ear and whispered something that, coupled with his action, broke Charlie from his self-inflicted trance. 

There was a hand on his crotch. 

“You like that faggot?”

It wasn’t that this was anything particularly new to Charlie, but it made him understand something. As the boy in front of him ground onto Charlie and grabbed him in a very non-consensual manner, something in Charlie clicked. 

The worst of these bullies were the ones who had been taught such a homophobic rhetoric, that is was ingrained into the very core of their being. That these actions were a hatred of both him and themselves. Of any soft and vulnerable thing they had ever felt. Any ‘gay’ thought that ever entered their mind. That this was the result of a deep repression, and that this was all that repression culminating in the least healthy way imaginable. 

That these boys would always think of him as something less than human so that they couldn’t relate to him. 

Or maybe that was just Charlie’s wishful justification of why this was happening. 

Either way, Charlie was no longer numb. Tears were running down his cheeks and his body was convulsing with his long perfected silent sob. At this point, the other boy was getting frustrated. Charlie had failed to get hard, something this guy was clearly expecting to happen, so he began to move away. He was muttering something under his breath, words that Charlie couldn’t process in his traumatized state. 

What Charlie could process was the distinct sound of a beer bottle smashing. 

In a few seconds, Charlie was being thrown to the ground, a glass shard cutting his face as his fell. He could hear the clink of new bottles and could feel the smashing of cool glass on his back. This brought Charlie a strange sense of catharsis. This was the type of pain he could handle. 

Charlie laid there, glass shattering over him and cutting his exposed arms, his mind slowly going numb again. Relief. 

There was a sudden pause in the rhythmic smashing, and Charlie was pulled from his newly reentered haze to the sound of fighting. 

As his eyes wetly blinked back into focus, he could make out Mac throwing numerous punches at this guy. The boy was clearly stronger but had decided that now was a good point to give up. He didn’t want to deal with someone who put up a fight. He swung one hard punch at Mac’s face before walking off, scoffing as he did so. 

Mac was at Charlie’s side in a second, checking his wounds and brushing away the glass. Charlie snapped back into reality. 

“ . . . and I knew something was wrong when you weren’t there after 5 minutes because you are never late, well, I mean you were that one time but . . .”

Mac’s ramblings trailed off as he gave Charlie another once over, trying to check for anything that could have lasting damage. His eyes looked so caring and sweet, his hair was all messy from the fighting and his cheeks were flushed. God, he looked so cute. He wanted to kiss him. 

A part of Charlie knew this wouldn’t end well, but most of Charlie was suffering from a mild concussion and blood loss, so hey, decision-making wasn’t really his strong suit at the moment. 

So he did. Well, tried to. Charlie leaned in towards Mac, hand reaching up to the side of his face and lips leaning in towards his. Their foreheads weren’t even touching before Mac shoved him off, eyes wide and afraid. 

Charlie felt his blood boil because of course, he would do this, of course, he would. God, why did he expect anything different?

“Charlie, you know –“

Charlie cut Mac off with an icy stare, “Yeah Mac. I know.”

He got up shakily and began walking away from Mac at as brisk a pace as he could given his condition. 

“Charlie! You can’t be moving around right now, you seriously hurt! You should be in the hospital! You nearly died.”

Mac was exaggerating and they both knew it, but Charlie wasn’t going to argue semantics at the moment. 

He turned back to look at Mac one more time before storming away. 

“Then I guess I’m a dead boy walking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is a Heathers reference, though I like the movie more than the musical.


	6. Empty Heads and Broken Hearts

Every single part of Charlie hurt. He had walked the opposite direction than he usually did in order to avoid Mac but had soon realized that he was only walking further into rich people territory and further away from the grimy alleys he called home. 

He was lost and bleeding with no change for a payphone. Charlie Kelly was fucked. 

He whined pathetically as he continued his achy journey to somewhere, tears rolling down his dirty cheeks. He was about to give up and just sit on the side of the road when a taxi pulled up next to him, back window rolling down. 

“Charlie?” 

An almost familiar voice rang out from the back of the cab, and through his tears, Charlie could just make out a metallic metal back brace and a head of blonde hair. Fearing the worst, Charlie looked at the ground dejectedly, trying to hide his bloody nose and teary eyes. 

“Charlie, get in.”

Dee’s voice wasn’t cold and biting, which is what Charlie had expected. Rather, it bordered on sympathetic and friendly. He looked up, wiping some of his tears on the sleeve of his jacket, and checked Dee’s face for any sign of ill intentions. 

“I don’t bite.”

She gave a slight smile and that was the only encouragement Charlie needed to open the door and slide into the back seat beside her. He closed the door and the car took off, presumably heading for the Reynolds house. Charlie didn’t properly look over at Dee until she passed him a packet of tissues from her purse. 

“Jesus Charlie, you look like shit.”

He laughed, knowing that that was an understatement. He happily accepted the tissues, trying to dab some of the blood and tears mixture off his face. He looked over at Dee with a small smile, noticing that she didn’t look that much better than he did. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her lip-gloss was smeared and spattered with blood at the inner corners of her mouth. Her hair was messy and her top was disheveled, a slight tear in it where the flowy fabric had gotten caught in the sharp metal of the back brace. 

“What happened to you?” Charlie eventually spoke; breaking the one-sided conversation Dee had been having up until now. 

It was her turn to look at the ground in mild shame, suddenly finding her scuffed sneakers very interesting. 

“Uh, Dennis ditched me. He’s, uh, he’s supposed to drive me home but he took that car to hang out with Maureen today, so I, uh, called a cab.”

She still didn’t look at him, and Charlie understood. They both got their fair share of bullies and beatings, and like any abused kid, they both preferred not to talk about it. Charlie didn’t push and Dee didn’t either, the two of them sitting in an understanding silence until she spoke up again. 

“Wanna get high?”

\----

Charlie had known that the Reynolds place was nice, but he had never actually been there. Now that he was, he understood that nice was an understatement. The place was fancy as shit and fucking massive. He looked around in awe as Dee kicked her shoes off and gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen. 

“My parents are almost never home. Dad’s always working, probably because he hates us, and Mom’s always out cheating on him and spending his money, probably for the same reason,” Dee rambled, clearly not secretive about her family issues. Charlie had the sense that this was almost revenge for her - tarnishing the good name of the family that had never treated her right. 

Charlie watched quietly as she swiped a bottle of vodka from the liquor cabinet, still talking (mostly in general than to Charlie). 

“Yeah, and Dennis won’t be home til’ tomorrow if he goes out with Maureen, they’ll probably get wasted and fuck in her dad’s stupid car and pass out. Long story short, I have the house to myself tonight, so I can get as fucked up as I want.”

Charlie just nodded quietly, knowing exactly what Dee meant by all of that. The “I live an abusive and emotional neglectful household and get hammered to forget how fucked up my life is” thing is something Charlie had done a million times before. He came to the conclusion that he and Dee weren’t really that different. 

He followed her upstairs quietly, simply listening to her talk and picking at the dried blood on his arm. 

\----- 

After getting cleaned up and rolling joints (something Dee was shockingly good at) the two of them sat on Dee’s bedroom floor, cracking open the bottom of vodka. Dee turned to him with a mildly concerned expression. 

“You can handle your liquor, right?”

Bitter laughter bubbled up in Charlie’s throat at the question; how many times had he drank an entire case of beer and barely felt a buzz? The only thing he and his mother had in common was the fact that they drank liquor more than water.   
Instead of laughing, Charlie simply nodded, taking a healthy swig from the bottle. A familiar burn went down his throat and an unpleasant taste was left in his mouth. Personally, he preferred beer, but vodka was strong and cheap. Clearly, both he and Dee were very used to drinking their vodka plain. 

They took turns passing the bottle around before he lit one of the joints, taking a drag with ease. Around Mac, he acted like he couldn’t smoke properly, which was only a partial lie. Around Mac he got nervous and breathing was a little harder, so yeah, smoking was a little more difficult. Plus, Mac just looked so good when he shotgunned the smoke to him. 

“You’re thinking about him.”

Dee’s voice cut through his thoughts lazily, bringing him back to reality. 

“You like him, right?” 

Charlie felt a blush rise up his cheeks and his throat gets tight. He played with his fingers and just nodded in lieu of a response. 

He could see Dee’s face break into a satisfied smile in his peripheral. She took another swig of vodka. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Charlie was going to shake his head before he realized, fuck it, yeah he did want to talk about it. He wanted to talk about how confusing Mac made things and how goddamn in love with him he was. So he did. 

Charlie rambled on about how he really really liked Mac, and how kissing him had been fantastic, and how he wanted to do it again. Oh, and how he wanted to hold his hand because Mac had really great hands. He talked about how he liked how Mac looked without product in his hair and how cute he looked in that stupid Riot shirt and how his eyes were the best colour in the world. He talked about how he didn’t understand why Mac wouldn’t say he loved him back. 

Through all of this talking (and, admittedly, crying) Dee just nodded, taking an occasional drag of her joint and listening carefully. When he was done, she turned to him, eyes dull with understanding. 

“I get it.” 

He waited for her to continue. 

“It’s like with Dennis. I obviously don’t like him the way you like Mac, but we’ve always been the other’s support system, you know? He’s the only other person in the world who understands exactly how absolutely fucked up I am because he’s the same way. We used to talk all the time, used to cry about how fucking awful we felt and how repressing all this shit inside of us was so tiring. We used to sit right here and fucking cry and hold each other like we were the only thing the other really had in the world. I need him here, Charlie. I need my brother to tell me that we’re gonna get out of here and everything’s gonna be okay. And he needs me too. I know he does. But since Maureen, he’s so caught up in everything else that it’s like he’s not himself anymore. He’s his façade 24/7 and I just can’t handle that. It’s like he’s afraid that showing any emotion towards me that isn’t hatred or disgust will spoil his ‘perfect’ image, and I hate it. I feel like I’m dying without him. I know it’s awful to need someone so much, but that’s how it’s always been. We’re fucked up co-dependent abuse victims, and we don’t know how to properly survive without each other. I’m struggling so much, and I know he is too. I can see him breaking down, but he won’t let me in. Now he would rather die than explain to Mac what happened at the party, which makes it seem way worse than it is, you know?”

She paused to take another gulp of vodka. 

“You know what he was doing, Charlie? He was helping me pull my hair back while I was puking. Some guy slipped something into my drink, and Dennis caught me acting woozy and knew something was wrong, and he brought me into the bathroom and helped hold my hair back while I threw up. He sat there and rubbed my back and told me it was going to be okay. And then Mac came in and he freaked out as if someone knowing he was a compassionate human being was the worst thing ever.”

She choked back a pained sob and looked up at Charlie with red-rimmed eyes. 

“I just want my brother back.”

He hugged her and she hugged him, and they sat like that for a while. High and emotional, two fucked up kids who badly needed their other half back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Dee and Dennis's relationship in this is platonic


	7. Finding Our Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kids like these always find a way back to each other

Charlie felt better after talking with Dee. Better being a relative term, meaning non-quite-as-fucked-up-as-he-had-felt-before. You know, better.

Better after spilling his guts to a girl he barely knows and downing a bottle of expensive vodka and smoking and crying until Dee passed out and Charlie was itching to move. To leave and walk somewhere and do something and process.

He walked mindlessly, wandering streets that stunk with opulence and conservative voters and hoarded money. He naturally headed out of the neighborhood, his body begging to be plunged back into the familiarity of nicotine sweet air and piss soaked sidewalks. So he walked, his subconscious trying to decide exactly which home it would bring him to.

\----------------------

Mac felt . . . guilty?

That wasn’t quite it. It was more like his heart had been ripped from his chest and put into a blender on high, but he was one who had put it there. He felt so fucking stupid for not kissing Charlie, because _really_? He couldn’t even separate himself from all that bullshit for one fucking second while the guy he loved was bleeding out under him.

Loved? Really liked? Felt like the other half of his overall existence?

There was some stuff he still needed to work out in that department.

But he _cared_ about Charlie, that was never in question. He cared so much that his chest ached and his head pounded and his limbs felt heavy and his soul felt like it wasn’t enough. Maybe that was love, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t know and he never been really loved before so he didn’t exactly have a metric to compare it to. Maybe Charlie loved him, but Mac wasn’t about to make any assumptions, especially considering how he treated him just then.

He really was an idiot, wasn’t he?

Mac sighed and found that, whilst in his plunge into over-analysis, he had led himself to a location that only further confused the matter. He looked out at the Schuylkill River and out at the warehouse and he signed, mostly to himself, because yeah, he definitely was an idiot.

Almost by instinct, he started climbing the rusty ladder up to the roof, careful to avoid rungs that had proven themselves to be less than reliable in the past. He climbed and he hoisted himself up and his found his home amongst the mess of dirty blankets and stolen lawn chairs and cigarette butts. He lay down amongst memories of him and Charlie, and Mac, the self-proclaimed idiot, lightly cried himself to sleep.

\----------------------

Charlie Kelly naturally gravitated towards the Schuylkill River on his unconscious journey home and found himself at its edge soon after. He looked out over it, out at the setting sun that cast long, warped shadows over decrepit buildings and lost people, almost as if old gods were trying to guide them back home. Charlie turned and followed his guiding shadow, knowing that it would bring him to the warehouse that was just at the edge of his personal horizon.

The walk wasn’t long, and it, like his entire journey here, felt automatic and natural, as if he was being pulled towards the building by an overwhelming presence, as if being near it fulfilled some addiction of his soul.

Charlie grasped onto the rusty ladder, as he had done many times before, and climbed it slowly, as if reaching the top would break the sedated trance he had maintained since exiting the Reynolds’ house some time ago. Eventually, however, he did reach the top, and he did see Mac, curled in on himself against a pile of blankets, cheeks ruddy and glistening.

Charlie almost expected himself to be angry again, to wish Mac was gone, to lash out at him for his actions just hours ago, but instead he felt relieved. He felt as though a puzzle piece he was unaware was missing had just clicked back into place. He felt more himself than he had since Mac had held him and kissed him last weekend.

Charlie walked over to where Mac lay and lowered himself down beside him, unfurling Mac’s fists and intertwining his fingers with his own. He pushed himself through the barrier that Mac had built around himself, tucking his head forward and leaning it against the others forehead, leaving enough space between so that their hands had room to find each other.

Mac lightly stirred, looking up with Charlie through lidded eyes that reminded him of the innocence Mac had held before the . . . everything.

“Charlie?”

Mac’s voice was scratchy and disconnected, and as he closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into Charlie’s shoulder, it was clear that he was still mostly asleep. Before he fully fell back into unconsciousness, however, he mumbled one last thing.

“I love you”

Charlie felt warmth and relief and an overwhelming sense of well, _love_ , spread through his body, and he realized one more thing: wherever Mac was, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what possessed me to update this again, but I did?? And I plan to finish it? I don't really know, I just wanted to write. I'll probably post more stuff but it probably won't be IASIP (most likely South Park stuff) so yeah.


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